


Then Spend My Life With Ya

by Nerd_Queen



Series: Merry Kim-Mas [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fluff At Some Points, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, some potentially triggering content, will be followed by more angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_Queen/pseuds/Nerd_Queen
Summary: Seven years, two months, three weeks, four days, sixteen hours, forty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds ago, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov made a mistake that rendered his happy life ruined.How do you survive when the man you love forgets you every day?





	Then Spend My Life With Ya

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seriousfangirl97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfangirl97/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS I BRING YOU ANGST  
> this does have some potentially triggering content, and is probably going to be (for now) the angstiest thing I've written. Maybe try and enjoy?

_“C’mon Yuuri, it’ll look amazing.” Viktor pleaded his husband, pouting as the Japanese man spun the two glittering rings on his finger, chewing his lips._

_“A twist lift for the exhibition…” Yuuri murmured, chewing his lip. “Fuck it.” He sighed, a grin splitting onto his face. “Why the hell not. What’s the worst that could happen?”_

                            ----

It had all gone wrong.

All so horribly wrong.

Screams sounded, yet Viktor could not hear them as panic filled his veins, his blood roaring in his ears as he tried to make his way towards Yuuri, now lying lifeless on the opaque ice, the cold sheet stained with the blood seeping from his forehead.

He was pushed back by a wave of rink-side medics and paramedics, hearing the sirens of an ambulance wailing as he was ushered off the ice.

Yuuri was lifted onto the stretcher, Viktor hastily kicking off his skates and grabbing his jacket from a paled Yakov, stuffing his feet into old, worn trainers. Feet aching, heart pounding, Viktor fought through the sea of fans, medics and reporters, reaching the ambulance, being stopped at the ramp by a paramedic.

“Please, you have to let me on!” Viktor pleaded desperately. The paramedic paused.

“What is your relation to this man?” She questioned slowly.

“My name is Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, his name is Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. He’s my husband, please, you have to let me accompany him!”

The woman paused, a flash of what appeared to be disgust appearing in her dull grey eyes.

“Fine.” She bit out. “Get in. And no crying. I don’t care what you people do, just have the decency to not do it in public.”

Fighting back the urge to snap at the paramedic’s frankly uncalled-for behaviour, Viktor climbed into the sterile ambulance, heart in his throat as he studied Yuuri’s face, pale and at peace, with several bandages, hastily applied stiches and an oxygen mask obscuring his face, he was still beautiful, though now in a sad, heart wrenching way.

Fear coiled in the pit of Viktor’s stomach, ugly and all-consuming as he buried his fingers in his own hair, tapping his foot against the cold metal flooring of the ambulance as the worn-down rubber sole of his trainer jittered against the polished floors.

The ambulance swerved, the sirens blaring as they drove recklessly to the hospital. Viktor’s breath hitched in his throat, the fear and anxiety plaguing him wrapping its ghostly hands around his throat and making Viktor choke on air.

“What did I say about sobbing?” the paramedic called from the driver’s seat, making Viktor clench his fists and grit his teeth, forcing himself to regulate his breathing.

“Sorry about her.” The paramedic holding the oxygen mask to Yuuri’s face said. He looked no older than about twenty-six, with a shaven head and soft, grey-blue eyes behind thick, black-rimmed glasses. “She was the first driver we had available. I’d drive, but I’m not fully qualified to drive an ambulance.”

“I-It’s alright.” Viktor managed, voice strained from holding back tears. “Just as long as we get my Yuuri to hospital. What happened to him was my fault… I just want my husband to be okay.”

Holding the mask with one hand, the man reached into his breast pocket, producing a tissue and handing it to Viktor.

“Here, you look like you need it.” The man said softly.

Viktor accepted the tissue gratefully, dabbing away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I’m Alexander, by the way.” The man said, gently pressing down on the blood-soaked bandages, blood still leaking from the wound on Yuuri’s forehead despite, the stitches. “My friends call me Sasha, though. Either is fine.”

“Alexander? That was my father’s name.” Viktor mused sadly, sitting up. “I’m-”

“Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov.” Alexander finished. “I-I know. I was… am, a fan.”

Viktor smiled sadly.

“My Yuuri was a fan, and he wound up my husband.”

“I-I know that too.” The man said awkwardly. “I used to skate. Made it to the Nationals as an ice dancer in the Juniors before I gave it up. I still followed skating though.” He said wistfully, trailing off. “It’s a beautiful relationship you have, you and your husband.”

“I don’t deserve him. This whole mess just proves it.” Viktor sighed.

“That’s not true.” Alexander said quietly, holding the mask steady as the ambulance swerved sharply around another corner. “I was watching the stream of the ice show before I was sent to the rink. I’ve followed your careers for years; Yuuri wouldn’t let you do this without trusting you to do so. Even if something went wrong, he won’t blame you.”

Viktor nodded shakily, resting his forehead on his fists, attempting to regulate his breathing as his head started to swim, a wave of nausea overtaking him as he tried not to gag on air.

Hold on.

Irregular breathing… struggling to breathe… nausea…

Is he having a panic attack?

“Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov?” Came the muted voice of the paramedic opposite Viktor. “Sir, I’m afraid you need to try and calm down.”

_Calm down?_

_Calm down?!_

He flicked his gaze up to the concerned paramedic, who was looking back at Viktor before turning to hold Yuuri steady as the ambulance swerved around another curve.

“We’re almost there, please, just try and stay calm for him.” The paramedic asked steadily, holding a cautionary hand out.

_How the hell did Yuuri always make this seem so easy?!_

Trying to even his rapid, laboured breathing, Viktor slid his hands into his hair, gripping the silver tendrils tightly.

_All your fault._

_It’s all you fucking fault._

_You had one good thing and you fucked it up, like you always do._

_Just like you did with Katya… you can’t ever have any fucking joy, can you?_

The ambulance stopped, the door swinging open to reveal the displeased frown of the driver returning to Viktor’s view.

“Stop shaking. For his sake.” The woman sighed. “Sasha, make sure that mask is secure.”

Alexander nodded, round glasses glinting with the reflected lights of the ambulances within the vicinity.

“You,” The woman commanded, nodding her head in Viktor’s direction. “Pull yourself together and come with me.”

Viktor nodded shakily, bringing himself to unsteady feet and stumbling out of the ambulance, tears stinging his eyes as he stared back at the unconscious form of his husband being carried hastily out of the ambulance as doctors and nurses swarmed him.

“Do… do you think he’ll make it?” Viktor asked, heart clawing its way into his throat.

“I am unsure.” The woman sighed tiredly. “It’s a little more than a fifty-fifty chance he will, but not by much, and any damage done will most likely be permanent.”

“P-permanent?” Viktor found himself stuttering, feeling bile rise up his throat. “This is all my fault. All of it. If I’d never… oh god…”

“Pull yourself together.” The woman demanded as Viktor sank to his knees, heaving and choking on his own breath, tears falling from his eyes as the jagged asphalt dug into the thin material of his costume, little pinpricks of unpleasant pressure stabbing at his knees.

Viktor gagged, catching himself on his hand as his stomach emptied its contents onto the ground in front of him, damp asphalt biting into his palm.

\---

It had been three hours since they had taken Yuuri into surgery.

Well, three hours, nine minutes and forty-seven seconds and counting, to be more precise, and three hours, seventeen minutes and thirty-one seconds since Viktor had broken Yuuri’s trust by failing to catch him and by fault, his skull as well.

“Vitya.” Yakov sighed, seated in the chair beside him in the waiting room. “You need to eat. At least drink something.”

Viktor shook his head, eyes still on the clock.

_Three hours._

_Ten minutes._

_Twenty-one seconds._

“Vitya… if he doesn’t make it-”

“I’ll kill myself.” Viktor replied curtly, shocked by his own bluntness.

“ _Vitya._ ”

“What? Do you honestly expect me to live in a world where the love of my life is _dead_?! Do you really expect that much of me, Yakov?” Viktor snapped, words becoming garbled as tears filled his voice. “A life without Yuuri isn’t one worth living-”

“Mr Katsuki-Nikiforov?” came a call.

Viktor’s head jerked towards the petite woman standing in front of him, wide blue eyes wide and fretful as her light brown hair fell out of the once neatly-pinned bun it had been secured into much earlier.

“Yes? Is my husband alright? Did he make it?” Viktor asked quickly, standing up and taking the poor nurse by the arms.

“Y-yes sir, he’s out of the operating theatre. He just needs to wake up now.”

“Where is he? Can you take me to him?” Viktor asked, relief flooding his system.

“Follow me, he’s not far from here.”

Viktor nodded, releasing the woman, watching her turn on her heel and lead him through the eerie, sterile hall ways of the hospital to the recovery room where Yuuri was, following intently at her heels like a dog.

“Here.” The woman informed, stopping at one of the countless, opaque doors. “I should warn you, sir, he’s received quite a fair deal of head trauma due to the incident, so the doctors are unsure of the state of his memory. He should be awake fairly soon, but he will be monitored… and given his anxiety disorder you should be careful not to trigger any forms of stress or paranoia.”

“I understand.” Viktor nodded.

“I will have to follow you in, just to be safe, sir.”

“Of course.” Viktor smiled tiredly, pushing open the door.

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat.

Yuuri was laid on the bed, in only a hospital gown and crisp bedsheets tucked up to his chest. His glasses were laid on the nightstand beside him, dark hair sticking out in tufts from the bandages wrapped securely around his head.

Tentatively, Viktor walked over to the chair at Yuuri’s bedside, sitting down in it and taking his husbands hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the bruised skin of the back of his hand, careful of the various tubes still connected to him.

“Yuuri, moya lyubov… forgive me… it was stupid to suggest even attempting a twist lift… I was stupid.”

The man beside him stirred, eyelids fluttering.

Viktor’s heart leapt into his throat once more.

“… Nani?” Yuuri croaked groggily, sitting up.

“Yuuri, moya lyubov, I’m here.” Viktor said with a teary smile as his husband turned towards him.

Yuuri’s beautiful face scrunched in confusion.

“Anatahadare?” Yuuri croaked, brows knitting together.

_Who was he? Maybe Yuuri was still groggy from the anethesia._

“Anatahadare?! Koko wa doko?!” Yuuri asked, fear written all over his face. “Anata wa watashitoisshoni nani o shitaidesu ka?!”

“Yuuri…” Viktor said, fighting back waves of tears before switching to Japanese. “Watashi wa anata no ottodesu.”

“Watashi no otto?” Yuuri asked, breath quickening as the heart monitor beside him started to beep, Yuuri’s heartrate rapidly rising. “Watashi wa kokyū ga dekinai!” Yuuri gasped, eyes wide in fear.

“He can’t breathe.” Viktor translated, panicked as he turned his attention turning towards the nurse near the door. “His heartrate is rising, he’s going to have a panic attack, get someone to help him!”

The nurse nodded, disappearing behind the door and returning with several staff members, one of which gripping Viktor’s arm.

“Sir, you need to leave-”

“He’s my husband, I can’t-”

The monitors began to beep loudly, Yuuri jerking and writhing in the bed wildly.

“He’s having a seizure!” One of the nurses cried

“Get him into a recovery position, now!” A doctor demanded as Viktor was ushered out of the room.

“Yuuri…” Viktor sobbed, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks as the opaque white door slid shut in front of him, a shroud of doctors and nurses swarming Yuuri behind the frosted glass panel of the door.

_This is all my fault._

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will hopefully be up within the next few weeks but I resume school on the 4th so who knows.  
> Tumblr: nerdqueensblogbitches.tumblr.com


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